Research
by Keryl Raist
Summary: Given the choice between emotional introspection and dealing with an uncomfortable situation, or ignoring that and researching the hell out of something, Tim McGee will take researching any day. Sequel to Am I Still...


Given the choice between emotional introspection and dealing with an uncomfortable situation, or ignoring that and researching the hell out of something, Tim McGee will take researching any day.

He will delve deep into the nooks and crannies of the internet, sleuthing through the combined wisdom of the great libraries, he'll even, if the alternative is having to think about his own emotional life, talk to other real, live people about a subject, all in an effort to not have to deal with whatever it is.

And so, he can research disabled sex, or he can deal with what happened last night, and at this rate the ambient temperature of Hell will be roughly -6 centigrade before he will voluntarily allow his brain to actually go through everything churning around under the surface.

Because he can't.

She's alive. He remembers sitting in the hospital, begging God to get her through this alive. Because in that minute when she started crashing, and he could feel his blood drain away and the utter horror of life without her, he knew he wanted her, and that… fear… whatever it was that got him to pick that fight with her burned away, replaced by aching terror of suddenly not having her.

So she's alive, and that's what matters, right?

And she's still there. Her mind and her… Delilah is still here.

And for six other boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, whatever… who made it out that night, that's not true. Then went home to an empty apartment and made plans for what sort of box to buy and what kind of flowers to put around it.

So… she's alive and her mind is whole, and that's the important part, right? That's the get down on your knees and give thanks because an inch to the left or an inch to the right and that wouldn't have been true.

And he's not hurt. All of him works just fine because Tony called at exactly the right time. He got out of the blast range, and sure he's still having nightmares about what he saw, let alone those seconds before the EMTs got there and he was doing first aid on her, trying to keep her alive and trying not to look at the blood pouring out of her.

But she's alive, and he wasn't hurt, and that's what matters there, right?

And really, how important is a sex life anyway? She's still beautiful and brilliant and warm and funny and…

But he'll never hear her gasp as he slides into her, knowing that it feels just as damn good to her as it does to him. And she'll never go tight around him when she's close. She won't shiver when he runs his fingernails up her thigh or kisses the inside of her knee. She won't pull his hair and arch up against his mouth when he goes down on her.  
All of that is gone.

And it's not like his sex life died. He's still whole, can still get it up and off. He's just fine, disappointed, but fine, so… So who's he to complain? Especially compared to what she lost.

And it's not like their sex life died… but she can't do any of that, not really. She can only, just, barely feel him inside her, and all of the getting there is gone, and so is getting off, and... It's just…

It's just not the same and… and he can feel the bubble of anger building, wanting to burst out.

So, research.

Research he can and will do.

And if there's a gold star for learning how to be an effective and efficient lover of a woman who has no sensation at all below her thighs and almost no sensation between her hips and thighs, he will win that gold star or die trying, because he can handle research, and right now, he can't handle screaming at the universe about how badly what happened sucks.

* * *

He's not even entirely sure where to start.

He does know the stuff he's finding about paralytic fetishists isn't what he's looking for.

And the huge piles of information about getting and maintaining an erection, let alone ejaculating post-spinal cord injury aren't of any use to him either.

Wheelchair sex looked interesting until he realized that all the positions were for the guy in the wheelchair. Sure, they can work with some of them, but that's the kind of stuff they were figuring out last night.

Narrowing it down to women and spinal cord injuries helped. Adding in L2 and incomplete helped further.

He was finding some things he thought were really encouraging until he realized that by sexual function they meant the ability to get and sustain a pregnancy. And while, yes, that is encouraging, too, (knowing kids aren't entirely out of the picture is good) that's not what he's looking at or for right now.

But, Tim McGee is a master of research, and though it takes him a while, he eventually starts finding useful stuff, reassuring stuff (like the majority of women with a spinal cord injury can experience orgasm), and eventually he found some really useful stuff (the Push Girls), and having found some really useful stuff, and ordered some stuff, and read more stuff, he was starting to come up with a plan.

* * *

"What's the hottest movie out there that isn't porn?" Tim asked Tony three days later when Gibbs and Bishop weren't around.

Research seemed to be indicating that part of sex with a paraplegic was stepping up your mental game. Desire, libido, want, need, those didn't go away. Sensation did. Physiological response to touch did. Which means touch wasn't the end all and be all of sex, which meant setting the mood and keeping it going was more important than ever.

So, set the mood he would.

"Body Heat, why?" Tony said, not even looking up from the report he was filling out.

"Movie night you aren't invited to."

That got Tony to look up and a wide, dirty smile spread across his face. "Breaking out of your comfort zone, McLoveMachine?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Something like that."

"Definitely Body Heat. But the uncut version of 9 ½ Weeks is good, too."

"Are we talking movies again?" Bishop asked as she popped up from nowhere.

"Yep. McLovin's looking for something to help perk things up, if you know what I mean."

If it was possible to kill a person by looking at him, Tony would be on the ground bleeding from every orifice, twitching lightly as his neural synapses shut down one by one.

"Perking things up on your own or with Delilah?" Bishop asked him, all wide eyes and innocent expression.

He finally stopped blushing hard enough to get some blood back to his brain and answered, "Delilah, too," while kicking Tony in the shin. Hard.

"Unless she's got some deeply hidden kinks for guys from the '70s and '80s, Tony's wrong."

"What! Those are erotic classics!" Tony sounded horrified that anyone might besmirch the name of his pet hot movies.

"No, those are _your_ erotic classics. Movies you saw when you were young and hit you hard. Delilah is not now, nor will she ever be, a fifty year old man—"

"I'm not fifty!"

"Close enough," Tim said, liking what Bishop was saying. "What's your suggestion?"

"Nine Songs. Unlike Tony's suggestions it was made after Delilah was born. And it's mad hot."

"He said not porn," Tony said, sounding smug.

"It's not porn!" Bishop sounded insulted that she'd suggest porn.

"Of course it's porn! Good soundtrack doesn't make something not porn."

"It's not porn," Bishop said vehemently without offering any objection as to why it wasn't porn.

"When I worked vice I used to arrest people for stuff that happened in that movie."

That got Tim's attention in a good way, his eyebrows flicked up and he grabbed his phone to make a note of the title. "What's it called again?"

"Nine Songs. It's hot. Really hot."

"It's lame! No plot. Not much dialog. Lots and lots of graphic sex."

"Are you looking for plot, dialog, and '70s pornstache, or do you just want something really, really hot?"

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Gibbs heading toward them, and without slowing down or even breaking stride he pulled a perfect u-turn and headed away. Apparently, they had finally found the conversation he didn't want to drop in on.

* * *

Three hours later, when Bishop and Tony were off getting background on their vic, Gibbs slipped over to his desk, and sat against it.

He did that thing where he just sat there until Tim said, "Boss?"

"Talk to her."

His eyebrows went high. "Uhhh…" He thought they'd been over that, and done that, and… And this was really uncomfortable.

"Skip the movies and talk to her. You're a writer. Tell her a story. She'll like one you make up for her a lot better than anything on a screen."

"Uh. Ummm… Thanks, Boss." If he thought he'd been blushing hard before, that was nothing compared to the amount of blood rushing to suffuse his face right now.

Gibbs nodded and vanished, seeming to understand that right now was not a moment Tim wanted an audience.

* * *

When he headed down to the lab, he expected Abby to hit him with everything, including the kitchen sink, but he'd also asked her for everything, including the kitchen sink.

The good thing about doing this with someone who was once your lover and is now you good friend is that, unlike Gibbs or Tony, he's not going to blush. Abby's seen him naked, knows what he likes, and he knows that about her, too.

So, he's comfortable asking for more help.

And he needs it.

Sure, it's one thing to read about vibrators maybe being useful, it's a whole other thing to actually have a woman who will tell you things like ergonomics and how they feel and how to use them (okay, at least sort of) and stuff like that. (Yes, he intends to take his cues from Delilah, but he'd also like to at least have a clue as to what to do with one.)

She looked up at him as he came down, eyebrow high. "No Caff-Pow?" She's joking about it, and he knows that. Some conversations don't need to happen at work.

"Though we'd go to the Caff-Pow instead of taking it to you."

"Sounds good." She snagged a thumb drive and handed it to him. "Everything you asked for is on there."

"Thanks."

They got clear of the building before she said, "I see Delilah prodded buttock firmly enough to get you moving."

"Did you two talk about this?" It's not a surprise per se, but… Still, he thought of Abby as his friend, and the idea that she and Delilah may be that close felt a bit weird.

"Is it a problem if we did? I mean, we're talking about it, too."

"No. Just… What'd she say?"

"That if you didn't stop treating her like a sister she was going to go insane. Though, given the shopping list you just gave me, I'd say that's not a problem anymore."

Yeah, given what was on that list. He shuddered a bit at the idea of doing any of that with his sister. "What'd you tell her?"

"That if she didn't make a move she was going to go insane because you weren't about to do anything without express permission."

"I guess." They stop at the drink trolley and order their drinks. He hands her the Caff-Pow and pays. It's cold outside, but he'd rather have this conversation out here, where he's got plenty of range of sight and doesn't have to worry about Tony or Palmer or Gibbs suddenly showing up.

"So, how'd it go?" she asked as they sat on a bench.

He rolled his eyes a little and took a sip of his coffee. "A lot like being a virgin again, scared, nervous, afraid you're doing it wrong with a side of she can't feel it unless I'm doing it so hard I would have hurt her before, and even then she still can't really feel it, and now I'm afraid I actually am hurting her but she just can't tell."

"That's the part that's killing you, isn't it?"

"Yeah." She knew just as well as he did that he got off on turning a woman on almost as much as he did on her touching him. And the idea that he might be accidently hurting her… that was worse. "The stuff she does to me feels great. And yeah, going fast and hard feels good too, but… But, God," he shook his head a little, "it feels selfish, too." The expression on his face was somewhere between an uncomfortable smile and a cringe. "You know, it's not supposed to be all about me. I mean…" he stopped, looking really embarrassed.

"Come on, nothing you're gonna say will shock me."

"She comes first. You know, that's basically the rule. That's how you know you get to move to endgame. It's like waiting for a signal that won't come. It's like: Is that long enough? Or this? Is she getting bored? and yeah, kissing and petting and breathy sounds are all good, but I'm getting no feedback from half of her, and… and I just don't have the same map I used to."

Abby nodded at that, understanding it, and took a sip of her Caff-Pow before saying, "It's not just about getting off."

"I know. And that was true before but… I'm good with goals. I like rules and structure and here's what we're doing and how we're going to do it. And yeah, women say it's not just about getting off, but…"

She knew what he wasn't saying. "It's not the same for girls, McGee. There is no equivalent of blue balls for women."

"Yeah, but I also know you guys find it frustrating as hell to not get off. The single most popular topic in every woman's magazine I've ever read is, 'Why can't he find my clit?'"

"It is, that's true. But, look, you were always fine with laying back and letting a woman do you. So, that's the game now, sort of."

His shoulders slumped. "Yeah I am… was fine with it, because I knew I'd get to return the favor."

"Just a different favor, now."

"I _liked_ the old favor."

She caught the bitterness in his voice. "I know, Tim. You talk to anyone about that?"

"About what?"

"About how the rug got yanked out from under your feet, too. And how it's not fair. And how it's your sex-life, too that's all upside down."

"I can't."

"You should. You're allowed to be angry about this."

"No, I'm not." He smiled sadly at her, shaking his head, and she squeezed his hand.

"Yeah, you are. It happened to you, too, Tim."

He closed his eyes, turning his face away from her, and then patted the pocket with the thumb drive on it. "So, you go through the things I sent and…"

"And give you my seal of approval, yeah. Some of them looked good, some didn't, and I wrote up reasons why for all of them."

"Okay."

"List of movies and shows on there, too."

"Okay."

"And, you didn't ask about it, but I added information about what to do with a catheter during sex."

He shook his head. "Fortunately, that's not an issue. She lost all function below her thighs, and about eighty-five percent between her thighs and hips. Her spinal column wasn't entirely severed. Sphincter control wasn't part of what went."

"That's good!" Abby said, sounding encouraging.

"Yeah, it is. Talk about conversations you never expect to have, let alone with your girlfriend, but, yeah, it helps, and not just in a less messy sort of way, but feeling like she's still a real adult sort of way. Bad enough to constantly need help with everything that's more than four feet high, but…"

Abby nodded, she understood. Her buddy, Carol, had a lot of the same issues.

"Gibbs suggested telling her stories."

"You asked Gibbs?" She was giggling at that mental image. "Your head still ringing from the slap?"

"He overheard Tony and Bishop talking about movie options, and more or less sprinted away, but when they were out he suggested telling her stories."

"I'd second that. Those poems always made me feel special," she said with a warm smile.

"Couple miles between those poems and talking dirty."

She remembered how nervous he was about reading those poems. Once he was at the mic he was fine, but getting there was difficult "Well, don't do it out loud if you can't or if it makes you uncomfortable. That's one area where stuttering through it won't be cute. But a sexy little email in the middle of the day would probably go a long way to making her happy, and you could blush all you want and take six hours to write it, but she wouldn't see that part of it. She'd just get all hot and bothered reading it. From everything you sent me, it sounded like desire, making sure she knows she's beautiful and sexy and you want her is a really big part of a functional sex life for a paraplegic."

"Yeah, seems like it's a mind game now. Like now it's seventy-five percent brain and twenty-five percent touch."

She shook her head. "For women it's always seventy-five percent brain."

"Then it's like one hundred and fifty percent brain now," he said after taking another drink of his coffee.

She smiled at him. "Then it's a good thing you're good with brains. There was something else you didn't mention, but… And I don't even know if you're still into it… but, you know, a big part of what she's lost is control, and getting that control back might be something she'd enjoy."

Tim nodded. He knew what she was talking about. Part of the reason the two of them didn't last long term, both of them sub and neither Dom, and while it was something of a game for him, it was a big deal for her.

"You ask her about that?" he asked Abby.

"No!" Her hands rose in a placating gesture. "I didn't know if you'd told her, and if you hadn't…"

"Hadn't come up." He rubbed his face. "Haven't subbed in years."

"No good partner, or just not your thing anymore?"

"Both? Not much fun without the right person."

"Could she be the right person?"

"Maybe…" That bit of him was something he generally kept very deeply buried, and the mechanics of how it might work with Delilah in the chair… He can think about that later. "At least with Fifty Shades out, it won't be like she's never heard of it."

"See, there's an upside to that abysmally lame book."

He shook his head at that.

"I put some movies on the list that might get a conversation along those lines started."

"Thanks."

She wrapped her arms around him. "You two are going to get this figured out."

He let her hold him for a few more seconds and then began to pull away. "We should get back."

"Probably. Tim, really, I know we're all allergic to psychologists, but, really, give Rachel a call. A mountain of stuff got dumped on both of you, and it's not going to get much better if you just stuff it down inside and ignore it."

"I'm good at ignoring it."

"I know. Talk to Rachel. Tell her the things you're afraid to say to Delilah, the things you think you're not allowed to feel or say. Really. Because you know, just as well as I do, that if you don't get it out it's just going to sit there and screw everything else up. And look, you're going to have a hell of a time making love to a woman if you're feeling angry, sad, and guilty. You'll feel it, she will too, and... and you've already got a steep enough climb without adding that on top of it."

He didn't comment, just stood up, and offered her a hand up as well.


End file.
